


Got the Best of Me

by nuclearchinchilla



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearchinchilla/pseuds/nuclearchinchilla
Summary: Viktor wears a suit, Yuuri has terrible friends, and everyone's taste in music is just horrible.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For victory-for-victuuri's request on my tumblr: "AU fic where Viktor is a male stripper and Yuuri's friends hire him to give a lapdance to the birthday boy (Yuuri, obviously) Please! <3"
> 
> I hope you don't mind that I tossed in a pole dance too. I really enjoyed writing this, I've always loved fics where you can plonk music in.
> 
> Warnings: Sexual acts and language, but of the mostly T-rated sort (yes Viktor works in a somewhat classier strip club, why do you ask).
> 
> Disclaimer: I have never seen or experienced lap dances and pole dances, actually I've never even seen a strip club before tbh. But in light of said disclaimer, I'm actually pretty content with how this fic turned out. My whole life is just studies, sleep, gym and dojo really. Now there's tumblr too though, so that's great. Anyway, I'm getting off-topic, on to the fic!
> 
> \---"  
> Update: guys, I have to tell you, re-reading and editing the softcore porn you wrote a year ago is a whole new level of hell. I do not recommend it.

"Yuuri, bonjour. I hope you haven't got plans yet, because I've found the perfect place for your birthday."

"Oh? Yeah I haven't got any plans yet. Do I even get to ask where to?"

"Nope! But it's great, my cousin's friend's sister really recommends it!"

Jean sounded happy. Too happy.

"Ah ok, I see, thank you so much," Yuuri could only reply helplessly.

"You're welcome!!"

This really wasn't good. Jean wasn't usually one for excessive exclamation. Yuuri was not exactly disturbed, but he was at least far from turbed.

But before Jean could hang up on him and put him out of his newly nerve-wracking misery, the 19-year-old dealt one last blow.

"Wait, you are 18 right?"

"Jean, I'm 23."

"Ah, sorry, sorry. You have such a baby face!"

"Goodbye, Jean."

\----

Backstage, a man dressed as a woman trying to look like a man walked up to him in platform heels, and offered Viktor a drink with a gesture. 

He paused his stretching and smiled sheepishly in a declining sort of way. The man rolled his eyes before sauntering off. Really, Viktor thought, his coworkers should know by now that he didn't drink while on the job. He wasn't a man of pride nor a man of any seriousness, but when he did show up to work, he was a professional, and he liked to think even his onstage antics were planned and calculated. 

They admired him of course, and they respected him. Being the best dancer for miles around gives you that. But. 

The music thrummed in his eyes. It would be louder beyond this little backstage area, and more crowded, but he suddenly felt the need to go mingle with the patrons anyway. 

It really was clear as day who the newcomers were. Everyone else talked about looking out for those with too-wide eyes, perhaps a nervous disposition, crossed legs, mouth slightly agape, etc. All the regulars like to play Sherlock Holmes- but it is all so excessive. "Really," Viktor thought to himself, "You just have to look out for one thing."

Newcomers actually try to talk in the club.

In the chill of the club, a young man shivered to his friend on the right. He seemed shocked to see Mila Babichev- one of the proprietors of the club- walk by, but then he waved to her familiarly. Which was curious- Viktor certainly knew that the man was no regular. There were a lot of young men in the club, just that this one caught Viktor's attention. He was dark-haired and wide-eyed. Thick framed glasses shortened the bridge of his slender nose and distracted from his high cheekbones, which was a little bit of a waste. His drink- a Long Island Iced Tea, of course it was- sat untouched. The young man uttered something to his friend, in a laughably ordinary-volume conversational tone. 

" _I don't even know why I'm here."_ Viktor read the curves of those full lips to say, or at least attempt to say, in a conversational tone laughably uttered at a sane, ordinary volume. The garish light shone off the cupid's bow of his plump upper lip.

"I'M SORRY WHAT?" 

"I SAID, I DON'T EVEN-" Yuuri found his hollering cut short by coughs. He settled for flailing wildly to express his discomfort. The music was so loud, he thought he could feel it in his lungs.

Very shortly afterwards, Yuuri assumed his previous bodily position, which was to say that the skater was doing a pretty good job of shrinking in on himself, into one tight bundle of nerves. Viktor couldn't help noticing that despite the man's pale skin and the constant nervous readjusting of his glasses, he was curiously toned, even under modestly fit clothing. Conversely, Viktor was the type to think that if there was any breathing space between your pants and your legs, then why even bother. Yet, to add further to anyone's envy, even without good pants, the younger male's pert ass was unmistakeable.

As far as Viktor's experience could tell, the poor boy was the birthday type, haplessly dragged out by his friends. Not really wanting to be here. Out of his depth.

Would never come back again.

Viktor didn't know why but he pouted at the thought.

He didn't really know why either but he found him sauntering across the club floor, sidling up to the man (so curled up, Viktor had to give him points for flexibility) and whispering into his ear, "if you're going to have to be here, might as well enjoy yourself, eh?"

The startled man squeaked, almost jumping out of his skin, and Viktor took a step back just in time to avoid a headbutt. _He squeaks_ , Viktor cooed internally, _how adorable_. But seriously, he had never seen someone jump so high from a seated position. More points for that, he supposed.

"I-um-who-"

"Stop shaking, I'm up next, eyes on the stage, ok?" Viktor purred, his breath hot on Yuuri's skin.

Yuuri just gaped. His glasses slid a little further down his nose. 

"Sorry. My, uh, glasses keep slipping down." 

"Pity it's not your pants that slip down." 

"No actually, that would be more inconvenient. I'd have to wear a belt and that wouldn't go with this outfit." 

Yuuri's friend broke down in hysterical laughter. 

Viktor just paused, his air of seduction slipping a bit. He really wasn't sure if this man was rejected him or he was really that oblivious. Somehow that made him even more endearing.

"Well keep those glasses on anyway because I want you to see every inch of me clearly," Viktor smiled.

Oh god not again, Yuuri thought. This ethereal wisp of a silver haired beauty sails up to him and delivers that heart-stopping statement and what could he possibly expect Yuuri to do except flap his mouth like a halibut? He tried to say something, but already the dancer was gone, lost into the throngs.

Yuuri's phone beeped to life.

"Don't mind Viktor," Mila had texted, "he just thinks he's the hottest shot around. Like some kind of absolute ace in questionable activities."

Yuuri smiled, he could practically hear Mila's groan through her message. More tellingly though, she didn't actually refute Viktor's supposed claims.

"He is quite…diligent though. Attending to each customer like that."

"Not all, but some I suppose. But diligent? Nah, are you kidding me, he doesn't show up for his sets half the time."

\---

 _~I look and stare so deep in your eyes_  
_I touch on you more and more every time_  
_When you leave I'm beggin you not to go_  
_Call your name two, three times in a row_  
_Such a funny thing for me to try to explain_  
_How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame yeah_  
_Cause I know I don't understand_  
_Just how your love can do what no one else can~_

"Crazy In Love" purred out the speakers with an almost ethereal quality, sending shivers down Yuuri's spine. It's soft, much softer than the sets of the previous strippers. Viktor's always had a thing for slower, graceful songs, hopeless romantic that he was. The fact that it was harder to strip to, than the likes of upbeat dance songs, was only a welcome challenge. He had walked onstage in a full suit, head high. Even with those layers on, the attire showed off broad shoulders and a trim waist, and gave him a suave Cary Grant sort of air. Then he shattered that fashionable formality, shedding the suit jacket, letting his silk tie hang loose and askew, his half-done dress shirt revealing the skintight lace blouse underneath. His mess of silvery-white hair tousled as he twirled elegantly around the pole, body twisted into a roxy spin, an ever-present smirk tugging on his lips.

Even under the blaring neon lights, Yuuri was utterly fixated on the stage, or more specifically, on Viktor. Yuuri's honey brown eyes were hazy, yet wide in utter awe. A slight flush have settled over his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, with a pant he seemed all too adorably trying to restrain.

The music would swell ominously, almost melancholically, like a distant thunderstorm, before ceasing into calm. Like a tidal wave, it rose and fell, rose and fell.

Viktor's fingers were light and easy on the remaining buttons of his dress shirt. It fluttered off his shoulders just on cue, just as the music dissipated once more into calm, the single piano key ringing out in near-silence. He spun swiftly into a butterfly trick, the legs of his inverted body curled firmly around the pole as he spread his arms, brilliant blue eyes twinkling with specks of silver. He gave a wink to the audience, righted himself, and blew a kiss. Yuuri blushed, almost shook. The lace blouse was on full display, and it was a favorite- it's skintight, like someone had etched patterns of frost onto the pearly white of Viktor's slim torso.

 _~Got me looking so crazy, my baby_  
_I'm not myself; lately I'm foolish, I don't do this_  
_I've been playing myself; baby, I. Don't. Care._  
_'Cause your love's got the best of me_  
_And, baby, you're making a fool of me_  
_You got me sprung and I don't care who sees~_

As the music built up to the final crescendo, Viktor's moves grew swifter. He slipped out of his trousers in a single move, as if they were made of nothing, right as the song crashed into the end chorus. His lace blouse now led perfectly into a pair of shapely black tights, the shape of his body as if traced out.

A couple more moves went before he flung his blouse, since undone, casually to a side. A thin sween of sweat covered his torso, now bare to the world, and heaving ever so slightly under the strain of his performance. He's glad he hadn't picked loud music, so glad, because then he could hear the softest of groans from Yuuri, sweet eyes and cherry lips so eager. Viktor casted a heated gaze onto the man, and god, he could see the guy almost melt. The dancer gave his wildest tricks a try before the song ended, and he slid gracefully off the pole, bowing to the audience.

\---

 _Keep walking, Viktor,_ he told himself, _keep walking._ His legs felt a little weak. Probably because he tried a little too hard to impress this time, probably because he's, ugh, _getting old_ , but that's not the point, the point right now is that he must not appear creepy and must take his mind off-

One of the men Viktor recognized as the Japanese man's friend, walked up to him uncertainly.

"So, hey, I have a friend who has his birthday today, we were wondering if you're free right now to give a private lap dance, we'd pay triple the rate."

Triple the rate? Really, he would do it for zero in this particular case, but if they were going to give him extra, why not. 

"Why I'd be happy to. I'll see him in 15 minutes, Room 3!"

Admittedly, his legs were sore from the pole dance. But, he thought, when you get paid to lap dance this guy of all people, it's practically a dream. Here was chance to tease Yuuri Godsgift Katsuki, so honestly those muscles could go file their petition to him tomorrow.

\---

"Wait, you haven't gotten off yet, have you?"

"I'm sorry what?" Yuuri turned his attention to Jean, still half-dazed.

"Because we arranged for something just a minute ago, except we're not that sure if you'd be interested if you've already gotten off."

Yuuri just stared at him in silent shock.

"I'm going to take that as a no, come with me."

\---

He's drying off his hair and still thinking of a song, when he thought, screw it, screw slow and subtle.

He put on some earphones and ran the music through his head as he slapped on a liberal amount of mascara and eyeliner, deliberately smearing the latter ever so slightly. Then he ran some gel through his hair, styling it into a more rebellious, spikier look. After some thought, he put on a turtleneck vest of black fishnet, to go with the tights from the pole dance. It was always good to have some kit to get off, even for a lap dance.

He headed over to the door of the champagne room 2 minutes ahead.

"Ciao, Celestino! I'm gonna need Disturbia, 10-minute rock version, for the upcoming session please."

"Really now? Never thought you gave that kind of lap dances," Celestino replied.

"I want to try something different."

"Must really have it hard for this kid then huh."

"He's not a kid," Viktor pouted. Celestino just gave him a pointed look that said "you didn't deny the other part of the sentence, but you know what, you do you, or rather you do him, I'm literally too old to care by now, and if I had fully cared to protest your every whim from the start, Viktor Nikiforov, I would be in an early grave by now." 

\---

 _~It's a thief in the night to come and grab you_  
_It can creep up inside you and consume you_  
_A disease of the mind, it can control you_  
_It's too close for comfort~_

The room flashed red with the beat of the music. Clad in heels, Viktor spun and dance, swaying and thrusting his hips to the rhythm, his body curving and arching seductively with each move.

As the song built, the dancer swayed and spun and danced his way closer to Yuuri. Then the music hit climax, guitars screaming. In one swift move, Viktor pulled his fishnet top off, tousling his spiked up hair in all the right ways. With his back facing Yuuri, he lowered his hips to right above the younger man's pants, absolutely teasing with small circlings and sways of his hips to the beat, so close yet just kissing the air above Yuuri's crotch.

Viktor looked over his shoulder and gave a wink, expecting a flustered, trembling wreck of a youth. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with steamy yet intent eyes, the Japanese's glasses having been ditched somewhere along the way. Yuuri was clearly interested, but quite put-together, giving Viktor a small smile and whistle in response.

It felt like the tables had turned so fast, Viktor was hit with the full force of figurative furniture.

 _Everything is ok,_ he thought, _this is great, and I can adapt to anything._

Viktor sunk into Yuuri's lap, bouncing and grinding against him. Yuuri tried to hold back, half-chokes emanating from the back of his throat, but eventually he just gave in, tossing his head back to let out a long moan. Then Viktor flipped over to face Yuuri, breathing onto the other man's neck, hips thrusting. They frotted against each other needily, with Viktor's sheer tights making the dancer himself all the more sensitive. The lace of his black panties clung onto him and just grinded in all the right ways against his crotch, and god why did he even think it was a good idea to wear these things? He was practically torturing himself here. Warmth settled low in his belly, and despite his best efforts, he was sporting a half-mast just as Yuuri was. "Best efforts" of course, referred to him doing his damnedest not to think about Yuiri discovering he was dressed as a woman under those tights, that exquisite lace just a sheer layer away from this man. It meant trying hard not to picture Yuuri fingering the hem of those panties in awe, leaning his face closer to them to lick at the growing patch of precome that-

He was so close to the boy, only inches apart from his face, he could just reach out to touch him, but no, he couldn't, shouldn't.

The song mercifully ended before he could contemplate how awfully rude it would be if he got rock hard when his client had not.

No-touching was a rule, no, a principle, and as much it was tempting to break, he did not.

One thing he did not have as a rule, however, was giving his number.

\---

I'm going to shower, Yuuri thought when he got home, I'm going to take a cold shower and I'm going to take care of this little- no not little, dammit- problem, and I'm going to throw these clothes into the wash because they smell of the club and of Viktor and- no actually did he even want Viktor off his clothes? What a crazy thought.

As he took his clothes off, he found it in his pocket. His mind blanked out for a moment. Then he set the paper down, gently, onto his nightstand, as if it might turn to dust if he were the least bit more forceful. Then he took a shower a lot more fretful and distracted than he anticipated.

 _What could Viktor want from him? What did he have to give? Why this? Viktor was a great dancer, a stunning one, and he had only just met Yuuri- what was this? Probably the man just wanted to sell him on the idea of a repeat visit- yes this was a sales pitch, maybe a standard sort of business thing even- but then why the tone and language of the note? But Viktor- he's playful, isn't he? Maybe he's like that with everyone.._ _._ His mind went in circles and circles. _He could settle the question_ , he thought as he finished up his shower, _by just calling the damn guy._ But he didn't. He just towelled himself dry and put his clothes in the laundry, and tried to fall asleep, that note still burning on his nightstand just inches away.

He felt still like he couldn't get the lingering presence of Viktor off him. The warm, earthy smell of the dancer's rose-clay soap, the spicy perfumed scent of the private room, and that indescribable musk that was just Viktor, as made heavier by the stripper's thin sheen of sweat as he has grinded down on Yuuri- all of it felt like it was seeping into everything. Onto his body, under his nails, into his sheets, into his dreams. 

\---

After four days of silence, Viktor took to wondering if his former client just wasn't interested. But he was assured by Mila that the man had found the slip of paper snuck into his pocket, but simply that the man was also the type to lock himself into his room for days, agonizing over whether to call.

Viktor was also told his name was "Yuuri", which sounds like "Yuri" and therefore it was joyously easy to pronounce. Viktor though the extra "u" made the name cuter too.

The call came through just as Viktor was starting to contemplate expressing his Russian patriotism through a stashed vodka handle.   


"Hi, is this Viktor? It's me, Yuuri Katsuki."

"Ah, Yuuri! I'm so happy to hear from you, we should get together more. But-"

"What?" Yuuri whatted.

"You know, off the clock. Go for a stroll in the park, eat at a hotdog stand, see a nice romantic movie, share at length about our tragic backstories, go to one of those matsuri things and sit on the roof staring up into the night sky, go on a beach vacation, marry each other-" 

"Wait, wait. You mean this is not just like, you wanting me to go to the club more?" 

"That would be great too! You haven't seen, let's just say, the full extent of my flexibility. I could even teach you. But what say we also get to know each other outside of work?" 

"Sure. I would love that- Viktor," Yuuri simply said, because "ohmygod hell yes" didn't seem as appropriate.

"Great. However...."

"However what?" Yuuri replied uncertainly.

"I thought I wrote my name as "The Sexy Peril" on the paper."

He did, of course.

\---


End file.
